All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…

{NSFW} 20. Confidence and Kink

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This is the twentieth day of the 30 Days of Kink Challenge, as such it contains adult (and spankolicious) content.

~ Talk about something within kink/bdsm that you’re curious about/don’t understand ~

Because it is taking me so long to complete this challenge (it began in November 2012!) I have decided to freewrite the remainder of the prompts. As such, please excuse any spelling and/or grammatical mistakes that may occur for they are all part and parcel of this form of writing.

Psychspanking

Although there are many things that I’m curious about within the realm of kink – notably, how much does a spanking really hurt? – I’ve decided to take a different tack in the answering of this prompt.

There are only two aspects of myself that I can remember haunting me since I was a young age. The first is my spanking fetish which, as hypothesized in my post Fifty Shades of Addy, I believe I was born with. And the second is my constant battles with confidence and self-esteem.

Ever since I was a young child I can remember having issues with my weight and how I looked. Even before the bullying commenced I had a self-hatred that young children just shouldn’t have to deal with. I was repulsed by the size of my belly, hated the fact I had to wear braces to fix my ugly teeth and – from height to girth to hair – hated how I looked. No matter how hard I exercised, nothing seemed to make a difference in improving my appearance and, as a result, I began my lifelong coping mechanism of isolating myself.

Instead of forging friendships and larking around like the other children, I would seclude myself with books and video games. On the rare occasions that I did venture into the wider world, I was either knocked down instantly (such as the incident when I tried to join an after school football group but was told by the adult coach that I was too fat to take part) or as part of a more long-con campaign (such as when I believed I had been accepted by some of the “cooler kids”, only to have them publicly humiliate me before beating the crap out of me).

By the time we moved from Scotland to South Wales when I was eleven, I was pretty much confidence free. I rarely spoke to people, rarely played with the other kids and had stopped trying to change my appearance because I no longer believed it would ever make any difference. I genuinely believed that no-one would ever love me, that it was not possible for anyone to care about me, that I was irrelevant.

Something that, regardless of how weird it sounds, spanking played a part in.

Even though I was rarely smacked growing up, both my siblings were; sometimes for crimes equal to or lesser than things I had done wrong. All of which led me to question more fervently what was wrong with me.

Why did my sister get the hairbrush for accidentally starting a fire when I, who started one deliberately, didn’t even get told off? And why did my brother get roasted with my mum’s slipper when I, who had done exactly the same thing he had, escaped with barely a cross word.

Every time my parents threatened to spank me, every time I believed I deserved to be spanked but wasn’t, was further proof that I was irrelevant to the world. To quote an Elvis Presley movie: “No-one ever loved me enough to spank me,”

So, with these two aspects of my self so closely intertwined, it is no surprise to me that I’ve become curious just what sort of effect one would have on the other.

In fact, the topic of would a real-life spanking have a positive impact on my confidence has been discussed whenever possible. Miss Beatrix and I discussed the topic several times during our online friendship, I’ve raised the issue with several online friends made through spanking-related social networks and it was something Samantha and I spoke about at length during our short-lived but inspirational friendship.

Samantha used to refer to her spanking desires as a base, personal need. She craved a spanking in the same way that other people craved hugs, kisses or sexual intercourse. To her, she needed the occasional spanking to survive, for without them, a part of her always felt unloved and uncared for.

It is a point of view that I share, and have shared for a long time. The only difference between Samantha and I was that she found it a lot easier to get people to spank her than I have, thus, she was able to have that niggling part of self loved whenever she desired. I, alas, have not been so lucky.

It has now been twenty-nine years since I first recognized my need to be spanked. In that time I have deliberately misbehaved (as a child) in the hope of being spanked, I have asked to be spanked, begged to be spanked and even tried to surreptitiously introduce it into sex in the hope my girlfriends would catch on. But I’m still waiting; and I’m still wondering what impact being spanked would have on my confidence.

Not being able to fulfill this desire, not being able to meet the demands of this side of my personality has forced me to question myself at every turn, repeatedly ask what’s wrong with me and search frantically for answers as to why no-one loves me enough to help me experience what my body tells me I need.

Like Samantha used to tell me, I do believe that being spanked would have a dramatic effect on my confidence. I firmly believe that all of the doubt, low self-esteem and negative self-talk could be undone by the simple act of spanking.

But until the day finally comes when I present my posterior for (playful) punishment, I will never know if this belief is true.

Until then, it is merely conjecture.

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